Tag Archives: panties

Those bloody pull-in panties…

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My mom calls them Pull-in panties. Also known in my circle as Bridget’s Jones’ knickers. You know the ones? The ones you buy from Edgars and the Woolworth. They come in  magnificent shades of white, beige or black. You get medium support or maxi support. I buy the maxi support. My mom actually asked me why I didn’t wear pull-in panties the other day. The cheek of it? I answered  back in a very clipped tone that I fucking was! (I think I might have skipped out the effing part).

My best form of torture is to wear the Pull-in cycling shorts. I’m not talking about the ones you buy from Verimark. Those are a breeze compared to the pugnacious pair I own. Mine are beige. Have the thickness and feel of flexible canvas. John has to leave the bedroom and may not observe the agonising procedure of me …..um…slipping them on. Ha ha…slipping is a joke, it’s more like me wrangling and trying to put a 5kg polony into a vienna sausage casing. It involves grimacing, squeezing, lots of talcum powder for easier lubrication and a few beads of perspiration on my forehead. And when I finally have them on…I snap the waistband in jubilation, wipe my brow and slowly run my hands over my smoother bum and thighs!

They definitely make a difference. One can’t breathe or eat in them or wear them when it’s too hot but they definitely… make a difference….

The grand entrance….

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We went to my niece’s confirmation today. My kids are okay in church. Put them in front of Disney Junior or C-Beebies and NO-ONE moves or blinks for an hour or so. But church is another matter.

We had to leave home at 7-30am to reach the church by 9am. They live an hour and a half away. We listened to the Springboks vs Australia on Radio 2000 along the way. It was a pretty tense and close match.  So when we got there, the game ended, South Africa lost, the temperature was hitting about 31 degrees celsius. I was getting pretty flustered and hot. Molly also decided at that moment to pull an insecurity hissy fit. This entailed me pulling and half dragging her across the road whilst she clutched at me with both arms, facing me and breathing heavily. She does this when she feels insecure.

So there I was boiling hot, pissed off and disappointed that the Springboks had lost and dragging Moll’s into the church. She pulled so tightly at my shirt that three buttons had come undone and my VERY voluptuous, stretch marked stomach was unveiled for all the world to see. Plus my panties had inched themselves into a very uncomfortable wedgie that I couldn’t correct as my hands were pulling and dragging Moll’s up the aisle. So undignified, I tell you!

A real grand entrance.